"Ugh, seriously Q? Him?"

Of course she never actually invited him over here, but he's flopped over on her bed anyways, spread out like he owns the place while she does homework on her desktop and attempts to ignore him. This is what their summer felt like. Those months where she entertained the idea of dating him, giving him a chance to prove himself, only to be shown time and time again that, while he firmly believe he was actually in love with her, he didn't really know what to do about this love and continued fucking other girls. But they hung out. A lot actually, more than he had ever hung out with a girl in his life while not fucking her. Of course, he asked every ten minutes or so just to make sure she wasn't interested. This has never stopped being annoying. She exhales slowly, turning to look over at him from her chair.

"Yes." She doesn't need to give him any explanation and it's not like they haven't had this conversation on multiple occasions ever since she started dating Sam a month and a half ago. But he groans, kicking his feet against the frame of the bed.

"I don't get it. I'm totally more awesome than he is and way more badass. He doesn't do anything ever and he never wants to come out and light shit on fire with me. He's so fucking lame, Quinn." Finally she turns in her chair to glare over at him, frustrated.

"At least he's nice and doesn't have sex with other girls when he says he loves me." He looks back at her blankly.

"Does he love you?" Quinn sighs. She should've known he would misunderstand her phrasing.

"No. That's not what I'm saying." Puck blinks at her. Moron.

"What are you saying then?" Quinn rolls her eyes.

"I'm saying, at least he's not you." She watches the muscles in his jaw tighten as he sits up.

"You're such a bitch sometimes. Maybe I should be asking him why he dates you." She rolls her eyes again and turns back to her computer.

"Why are you even here? Go away." He grabs the arm of her computer chair, spinning her towards him so forcefully she almost falls out of the chair and onto the floor.

"Because you're like my friend and shit, right? We're friends?" He's leaning over from where he's sitting on the bed and she can feel his breath on her face. She swallows a lump in her throat at the proximity.

"Yeah, of course we're friends, Puck." He nods like a teacher to a student who just gave him the right answer and his hand settles onto her knee, his other hand pulling her chair closer to him. The chair rolls on its wheels obediently.

"You fuck him yet?" She flinches at the words, recoiling into the back of the chair but she can't get far enough away. His hand slides up her leg a few inches.

"That's none of your business." His hand slides up further and when she reaches to brush it away he just puts it right back where it was.

"I thought we were friends. Friends talk about this right?" She watches him lick his lips before she closes her eyes.

"No we haven't… done anything. I don't want to talk about this." His hand grabs her thigh and before she can stop him he's lifted her out of the chair and pulled her onto his lap. She grabs his shoulders to steady herself, blinking down at him.

"We don't have to talk." His lips attach to her neck and she shakes her head a little.

"I can't—"

"Q… fuck…" His hands grip her waist firmly. Sam's only tried a few times, sliding his hands up under her shirt or up under the hem of her dress when they make out on his couch but she always pushes his hand away. He's always nice about it, getting the hint without getting offended or trying again like Puck would. Sam reminds her of Finn. Puck's lips are on her collarbone and her vision becomes hazy. One of her hands presses against his chest, fisting his shirt.

"Sam-"

"Quinn, just once? Goddamn, I just need you so badly…" His voice is muffled against her skin and his hand slides up the back of her uniform top, his palm against her bare skin. She shivers with familiarity. She opens her mouth to say something else but his lips are on hers and they're falling backwards, bouncing against the resistance of the mattress and he's unzipping her uniform and tossing it aside and pulling out her ponytail and her head is spinning with déjà vu until she sits up, her hands on his bare chest. He blinks up at her like he doesn't know what she's about to say. She doesn't either. There's a long pause.

"Just use… a condom…" He licks his lips, obviously trying to hold back the smirk that spreads across his face before he grabs her and sets her down on the bed, digging around in his bedside table before he finds one. Quinn leans back against the pillows, propped up on her elbows as she chews her lip. Finally, he turns back to her, an arm wrapping around her waist as he presses his lips against hers roughly, one of his hands guiding himself into her. She inhales through her nose.

"Puck…"

"Fuck baby, goddamn you feel so good…" His free hand cups one of her breasts, his lips attaching to her jaw as he starts to move a little faster. Her eyes close as she moans his name again. He groans in response. "Q… fuck, say my name again…" She shudders as he tilts his hips, pushing into her deeper and she can't help but do what he says.

"Puck… oh yes…" He groans a little louder into her ear before he pulls away. She opens her eyes to see him looking back down at her, his eyes hooded and focused as he watches her face. Both of his hands hold onto her hips firmly and her head tilts back. Her teeth bite down on her bottom lip as she moans again, one of her hands grabbing one of his wrists as his thrusts become more erratic. "Oh god… Puck, I'm…"

He leans forward again, one of his hands running through her hair, tugging gently, his voice in her ear. "Fuck, just come Quinn… fuck…" She whimpers, her hips squirming under him.

"Oh… oh… Puck!" Her hands grab at his forearms, fingernails digging into his skin, her body tensing as she comes undone. He groans into her ear at his release, his hand still holding her hips against his as they pant. Puck shudders over her.

"Goddammit, Q… You're so fucking hot." She blinks up at him, trying to catch her breath as she swallows, her hands sliding off his arms. Guilt begins to settle in her stomach. He opens her eyes to see her staring at him. "What?" She shakes her head.

"I just… maybe you should go." His eyes grow dark, his chest still heaving as he lets her go, pulling away from her roughly. She lies still on the bed, watching him pull his clothes on silently. He's in the doorway before he turns back to her, pointing an accusing finger.

"You fucking know that meant something. You fucking know it." And he's gone.